The (Attempted) Return to Normality
by Cececat
Summary: This tale - which begins mere hours after the ordeal at the castle - tells the story of an all-American guy questioning that clean-cut identity and a girl who wants to live the sort of wild life she got a taste of during her escapades at the castle. Can these two survive in that conservative place called Denton Ohio with such outlooks? (Please Read/Review!)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_**

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 **A/N: Another story begun. Oh dear.**

 **At least it's somewhat unique. I'm pretty sure nobody's written a story about Brad & Janet that's sort of a commentary on gender roles in modern society. Okay... somebody probably has. Though I haven't, so it's new for me! **

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A young man awoke upon an uncomfortable bed in a room that smelled of various chemicals, including bleach. There was an IV carefully attached to his wrist with that nasty white tape. It itched.

If you read the bracelet on his _other_ wrist you'd find that the man was Brad Majors, born 5/9/1948, weight 170lb, height 6'4", admitted 7:15 AM on 11/24/1974.

Soon enough a nurse appeared in the room. She was the age of Brad's mother and smiled kindly when she realized he was no longer sleep.

"The Doctor will be pleased that you're awake. So will the police, though we aren't allowed to let them question you until the doctors say so," the nurse explained. "For now, I'm to get you anything you need."

There wasn't much that, except perhaps a glass of water. Though that could wait. At that point there was something more important on his mind.

"Where's Janet?" he asked.

Embarrassingly, his words were more of a pathetic whisper than the commanding statement he'd expected them to be. This was due to the parched state his throat was in. He really did need a glass of water.

At least the nurse heard him. "Do you mean Janet Weiss, the young woman who was brought here with you early this morning?"

Brad nodded. Then, the nurse handed him a glass of water. Though the Styrofoam cup tasted unpleasant the cool water made his mouth far less dry.

Soon enough, the nurse continued to speak. "Well, I know she is still in the hospital here. I'm not allowed to say much else yet. What relation are you to her, by the way? She won't tell us."

"She's my fiancée," Brad explained, his voice now (thankfully) stronger. "Why, we were going to announce it in the local paper today. As you know things didn't go according to plan…"

The nurse laughed. "Yes. Though you seem to be healthy enough that you'll be let

"Did she mention me at all?" Brad asked.

An expression of worry appeared on the nurse's face. "No. It's a bit odd, since _you're_ her fiancé, but she kept going on about somebody called Frank and never even mentioned you. But don't worry. She's clearly not well – not right in the head. Last time I checked they were checking her for signs of any drug abuse."

"Drug abuse? What do you mean? Why, I would never let her take anything!" Brad exclaimed.

"It's not a question of that, dear. We have to do certain tests when we see certain symptoms. Miss Weiss might be perfectly sober for all we know. Anyway, since you aren't yet married, it won't reflect on you in any way."

Brad knew that this was true. But he's always felt – from the evening he'd met her parents – that she was his to look after. If she _had_ taken some sort of drug during that dream of a night it was his fault. He clearly hadn't kept a good eye on her, that was the trouble!

With a motherly expression of pity on her kind face, the nurse patted Brad on the shoulder. "I'm sure she'll be fine. Miss Weiss is probably just is shock from whatever happened. Now, there isn't more I can tell you about test results just yet. Since you aren't a blood relative or a spouse I legally can't say much."

Neither of them spoke for a while. Then, a doctor entered the room. It was a very serious looking man who looked a decade or so older than the nurse. He wore glasses and a serious expression upon his lined face. Very different from the last so-called 'doctor' Brad had met. This was a good thing.

"Hello. I'm Dr. William Hartnell."

"My name is Brad Majors," Brad replied, holding out his hand.

Dr. Hartnell shook it – firmly – and then set his clipboard on the table next to Brad's cup of water.

"I've just got to make sure that everything is alright. Last night was most extraordinary, if the condition you and Miss Weiss were found in is anything to judge by. So I need to know of any symptom, any issue. You can tell me anything and I won't be able to say a word to anyone. There are quite a few laws about it."

This made Brad nervous, though he didn't show it. Some things that had happened the previous evening he would ever speak of even if his life depended on it. So he kept his manner as calm as possible, and told Dr. Hartnell of the different burns and scrapes he's suffered when the castle disappeared. Though, to avoid being committed to a madhouse, he neglected to mention the castle being a spaceship. He just said it blew up. That made more sense and was lent credibility by the ashes still on Brad's face.

The nurse then tended to the various petty injuries. Before, the only thing the doctor's had done was put the IV in Brad's arm. It was as the nurse cleaned and bandaged that Brad realized what he still wore what he'd worn earlier. Though there _was_ a hospital gown over it now. And, horribly enough, his glasses were missing.

Nobody spoke for a while.

Then, Dr. Hartnell seemed to remember something.

"The police will be questioning you. I've got to deem you of sound mind before they do, however. Your manner – though not your clothing – gives me the impression that you are indeed sane. Since you haven't displayed any signs of instability I won't subject you to any unnecessary testing," he said, smiling slightly.

"Thank you, Doctor," Brad said.

Then, Dr. Hartnell – and his clipboard – left.

The nurse was soon finished with Brad's injuries. Though she stayed in the small room with him. Neither spoke for quite a while. Brad drank a bit more of the water, though.

Soon enough there was a knock at the door. A thin, sharp-eyed policeman entered carrying some papers and a pen. Another policeman – stockier and duller in expression – soon followed.

"My name is Samuel Vimes. This is my colleague, Constable Feldspar," said the thin one. "You're Mr. Brad Majors?"

Brad nodded.

Vimes laughed mirthlessly. "Well then. I've heard many things as chief of police here in Denton, but I've never heard about a castle and a bunch of people dressed like a damn'd burlesque show. Why don't you start from the top, Mr. Majors? How did it start?"

The policeman clearly wasn't in a good mood. Nor was he ready to believe what Brad was about to say! But Brad tried to ignore this. He told the story as seriously as he could… and left out a few key details.

"Well, my girlfriend Janet Weiss and I were at the wedding of my friend Ralph Hapschatt and _his_ girl Betty Munroe. I'd been planning to propose to Janet anyway when she caught the bride's bouquet after the ceremony. So, once all the other people had left the church, I proposed and she eagerly accepted. Then we went to the reception and to dinner with the other guests. That all went pretty well, I'd say, especially since we didn't mention the engagement to avoid drawing attention away from the newlyweds. Nothing out of the ordinary happened.

"When we left the dinner we didn't go home. Instead we drove to the house Dr. Scott, who teaches at Denton High School. We wanted to announce our engagement to him first, since he's the old friend helped set us up years ago. Of course, it was storming last night – surely you remember that – and we got lost. It seems we were really unlucky, because our car's tire went flat. In the hope of finding a phone to call we walked a mile or so in the rain to a house we'd driven by earlier. That's where the trouble began."

"'The trouble', eh?" Vimes asked, lighting a cigarette.

Brad laughed nervously. "That's when we met some very strange people. First we met the butler. I him asked for a phone. Without properly answering he showed me inside. Soon enough he told Janet and I that there was a party going on. Then, for some reason, they showed us-"

Raising an eyebrow, Vimes interrupted. "'They'? Who do you mean?"

"The butler and a maid. Anyway, they showed us into a room full of oddly dressed people dancing. It all seemed unhealthy, as Janet pointed out, but I still hadn't found a phone. So we waited for a while. Soon, the host of the party showed up. He was a deviant of some kind. That is, he wore woman's underclothes – without anything over them – and makeup. Poor Janet was so frightened she fainted."

Judging by the expression on his face, Vimes didn't approve of this any more than Janet had.

"He then trapped us and kept us prisoner there for hours. Many things happened to us, things you'd expect to only see in a cheap exploitation b-picture. We only managed to escape when his insane servants blew up the house."

For a moment Vimes intently stared at Brad, as if trying to see if he were lying about it all. Even to Brad it sounded like a story read in an issue of _Fantastic Science_. And Brad had even sifted all the strangest things out of the tale!

"Did you write all of it down, Feldspar?" Vimes asked, still staring at Brad.

The constable nodded. "Yessir."

Then, Vimes finally looked away. Without another word he stood up and stalked out of the room. Brad was rather worried and, apparently, it showed.

"Sam means no harm. He's grumpy _all_ th' time," Feldspar explained nervously. "And _I_ believes your story, even if he don't."

Neither of them spoke for a while. Then Feldspar left. Now Brad was alone with the nurse again. He'd almost forgotten about her.

"That sounds like a very interesting… adventure, dear. No wonder poor Miss Weiss is so shaken up by it all," the nurse said, shaking her head.

After that Brad was left to rest for a while. This meant he was to sleep while a nurse – there were a few, actually – occasionally checked up on him. Nothing even mildly interesting happened for far too long.

By dinner time that day something finally happened. A doctor who Brad hadn't yet met appeared at the door. _This_ doctor had a hairstyle that reminded Brad of The Beatles and a very serious expression on his dogish face. Brad later learned that that very serious expression was the _only_ expression ever to be found upon the face of that doctor.

"Hello, my name is Dr. Troughton. I've been the one checking up on Miss Weiss. Now, she has finally been deemed mentally stable enough you name you as the significant other on file. That means we are free to share otherwise confidential information with you. Her family is waiting nearby. Dr. Hartnell said that you're to be discharged as soon as you fill out a bit of paperwork since your injuries were minor at worst."

"How is Janet? You said she's stable, what does that even mean?" Brad asked.

Dr. Troughton sighed a weary sigh. "She's doing well enough considering. Like you she has some smaller scratches. We thought she'd been drugged somehow due to her overly giddy behavior but after all those tests came back negative. I think it was just the shock…"

It was clear the doctor wasn't saying something. Brad didn't like the fact that somebody wasn't telling him presumably important medical information about fiancé Janet Weiss. Since her parents weren't nearby it was his job to look after her he'd filled that role lately.

"You aren't telling me something," Brad said, his tone stern.

"Well, she's still been behaving strangely. Even after the giddiness faded. She's become increasingly agitated as the day progressed. We're hoping somebody from the psych ward will be able to figure it out," Dr. Troughton explained solemnly.

"What do you mean by 'agitated'?"

"Well, she keeps having these little 'spells' in which she seems to fall into a light sleep. After a moment of looking very peaceful she'll cry out a variant the phrase 'Frank, my darling'. Then she breathes heavily or shrieks in what might be pain. These have increased in intensity and frequency as time goes on. We got her to sign the papers allowing us to share her information with you whilst she was calm, near lunchtime."

At the mention of Frank, Brad became somewhat angry. Though he was careful to hide this fact. Thinking of a question to ask – which he did – distracted him.

"Are there any physical symptoms? Anything you've neglected to mention?"

Now Dr. Troughton blushed. "Just, er, a bit of an 'injury' between the poor girl's legs. I don't know if you realized… but the deviant at this castle you've told us of apparently had sexual intercourse with her. Very roughly. Well, at least rough enough to cause a bit more damage than we're used to seeing. When some of the female nurses were helping her change into better clothes they cleaned her up, at least. She was quite a mess from all that'd happened."

After that shocking speech the doctor left. As did the only nurse in the little room. Brad was left alone. He began to think about everything.

For a moment Brad wondered why nobody had helped him change out of his deranged burlesque costume. Then he realized that, as a guy, he didn't need help with such things. And having a male nurse help him dress would look like homosexuals, while a female nurse would probably fear injuries like Janet's. It was fun how society gave quite distinct and very different identities to men and woman.

Brad was the protector of Janet, earner of money, and defender of his own honor. As a man he needed to be brave. He needed to wear trousers (unlike Frank) and make crude remarks at sluttishly dressed young woman (as Frank did) when he was with his male friends. Those were unspoken rules.

Janet, on the other hand, should behave in a sort of quiet way. One of her most important jobs was her ability to look both modest and stylish. Cooking delightful dinners and giggling with her friends were also required behaviors. She shouldn't cry out the name of a man she'd hardly known while breathing heavily. It wasn't right… or so thought her fiancé Brad Majors.

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	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_. **

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**A/N: Thank you SO MUCH for reviewing, Guest! Because of your review I be updated this. Before, I though nobody was reading it. I'm glad somebody thinks it's a good idea for a story. **

**Hopefully some of this doesn't get to weird. The sexism and the 'not ruining her reputation' thing is supposed to be in Brad's head. Later character development should fix things.**

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Soon enough somebody brought Brad some proper clothes. That meant a suit that belonged to one of the doctors. It fit him well enough, all things considered.

After he'd dressed and cleaned some of the ashes off himself he followed Dr. Troughton to the room Janet was in.

It wasn't too far from where _he'd_ spent much of the day at least.

So, after a few minutes of walking, he found himself outside a strange room. The doctor left Brad at that point.

On the bed Brad's fiancée lay, staring dully at the ceiling. At this point in time she wore a white hospital gown. Her arms were draped pathetically on the bed and facial expression way too calm. Ever her eyes – still wide, brown, pretty – looked spent or something. As if all their life had been used up. All in all she looked like a pretty rag doll draped lifelessly across the hospital cot.

Something about this strange sight was oddly poetic. The way her blonde hair was strewn and the gown reminded Brad of the time his mother had taken him to see a production of _Hamlet_. During the scene in which Gertrude describes Ophelia's death, the actress playing Ophelia had been carried – lifeless – across the stage. Though he'd been only ten or so at the time, Brad remembered this in great detail.

Something about that sorry sight of a madwoman lying limply across a cot was very real in Brad's mind, even years later. Now, _this_ was even more real…

Once he's stared in strange horror at her for a moment, he noticed a nurse standing nearby. She looked very cheerful, quite the opposite of Janet. Her hair was darkish brown and pinned back. Despite this and her rather old-ladyish manner of dress she wasn't much older looking than Janet. After a moment of looking at her, Brad realized this. And she was actually quite pretty. Not that he really cared… for some reason.

"What is wrong with Janet?" Brad asked.

"Oh! We don't know. As of a few hours ago she isn't talking to anyone," the nurse explained. "I'm an assistant to Dr. Troughton, by the way. My name is Victoria Waterfield. Call me Vicky… everyone does. Well, Janet does. Though other people called me that, which is where Janet h-"

" _Shut up_."

It took Brad a moment to realize that the hopeless voice that spoke those words belonged to Janet. Never before had she sounded so… dark. This unnerved him, to say the least. And she still seemed as lifeless as ever! It was like that story in the April 1930 issue of _Astounding Stories,_ in that story where a corpse had been 'living' almost normally. It spoke and it ate, but it still wasn't properly alive. That – Brad thought, rather hysterically – was what Janet had become.

"I was told that Janet was agitated in some way. Breathing heavily, calling out for some reason. Now she seems _too_ calm. What's going on here?"

"We gave her something to calm her – after she'd agreed to it, signed for us and everything. She's better now than she was then in the very least. Now she-"

"Now she looks dead!"

Again, the dull voice – that somehow belonged to Janet – spoke. "Brad. I'm fine. Just _tired_."

Vicky nodded in agreement. "She's just tired, Mr. Majors, as she says. Not lobotomized or anything silly like that. Now, we've got a psychoanalyst coming in tomorrow to talk to her about all this. Since Dr. Troughton has decided that nothing physical is wrong, we've decided that's the best option. Hopefully we can figure something out from there. You know, I think-"

"Can she leave the hospital tonight? Then return, tomorrow, for the appointment?" Brad asked. "Clearly, there isn't much more you can do for her tonight!"

He then walked over to the bed. Carefully, he lifted her up to a sitting position. It was like picking up a very lifelike scarecrow. Janet was far lighter than she looked. That scared Brad, for some reason. Something was wrong with his fiancée and it wasn't completely because of that nightmare of a night at the castle. It seemed that she'd been sick in one way or another before hand. Or maybe one man's idea of 'sick' was another's 'normal'…

Soon enough they'd managed to get to the reception area of the hospital. That's where men anxiously waited for news of their wife's baby, or not-too-sick children sat coughing. For some reason, Dr. Scott was there too. He wasn't wheelchair bound anymore. Now he leaned against a wooden cane instead. Brad made up his mind to ask about that later.

Still carrying Janet bridal-style, Brad walked over to his friend.

"Brad! Vhat is vrong vith Janet?"

"Nothing they can help with right now, apparently. I'm taking her home for now," Brad explained.

And so, after much dull paperwork and a bit of mindless small talk, they left the hospital. Brad drove Dr. Scott's car back to Dr. Scott's house. It was only dinnertime, and Brad was reluctant to return to his own house. Janet surely couldn't be left alone, yet he didn't want her at his house. Having his fiancée stay at his house overnight wasn't proper. It would ruin her reputation. But, at that point, Brad Majors didn't know what else to do.

So he carried her into Dr. Scott's house and set her down on the living room couch. She still was being rather lifeless, so didn't really comment on this in any way. Nobody spoke until both Brad and Dr. Scott had sat down. It seemed by then that Janet was perking up a bit.

"Brad Majors… vill you explain vhat is _going_ on?"

"Yes, I'd better. Janet here has nothing physically wrong-"

"Except for the fact that Frankie – or maybe Rocky – apparently went a bit rough on me or something, leaving extra damage," she said, somehow not blushing.

Secretly, Brad wished she'd shown some sign of discomfort at such statement. Alas, she looked perfectly cheerful. Though this newfound cheerfulness at least resembled her old nature more than the limp calm.

Brad cringed. "I wasn't going to mention _that_ , dear. What I was going to say was that you've been acting a bit oddly and the doctor wants you to see a psychoanalyst. The nurse – the one called Vicky – wrote down the time and date of the appointment. For now we're going to have to keep things quiet. No randomly going out Betty's house for lunch, and you might also need to stay at my place until things are settled. I'll need to call my boss and explain things, won't I?"

Now Brad was too lost in thought to say anymore. This really was a bit of a problem. Having her stay at his house overnight would look odd. Yet, at the same time, it would probably be better for him to supervise her. She was his responsibility – especially now that they were engaged instead of merely dating.

Finally, Brad decided.

They'd be announcing the engagement in the newspapers tomorrow. Having her stay at his house wouldn't look too bad. Anyway, everyone was so excited about Ralph and _his_ new wife that nobody would really pay much attention to Brad and Janet. It would risk her reputation, yes… but leaving her on her own might cause something even worse!

And so, sfter eating a simple dinner of carryout Chinese food at Dr. Scott's house, Brad brought Janet home with him.

Once they'd gotten to Brad's house whatever they'd given Janet had clearly worn off. It was obvious that something was very wrong with her. For some reason she was humming a song Brad didn't know. Occasionally he'd catch a word of it and wince.

He led her up the stairs and into the guest room. That was the only bedroom in the house besides his own. Since nobody ever stayed in it, the sheets were clean and it was perfectly ready for Janet.

"What's this?" she asked.

"Your room for the night. Now, I haven't got any pajamas for you so you'd better just wear what you're already wearing," he told her firmly.

Then, he laughed at the absurdity of it all. There she was still wearing that hospital gown, in his guest room, singing a song she really shouldn't know.

" _It only leads to trouble and... seat wetting. Now all I want to know is how to go. I've tasted blood and I want more..."_

"Janet, what're you doing?" Brad asked.

She didn't reply. No, she merely kept singing and trying to steal his clothes. This he didn't approve of in the slightest. So he grabbed her hands and pushed her away.

"You aren't supposed to do that, Janet. In a year or so when we're married you can behave like that sometimes. Though for now you're my polite little fiancée who behaves very politely. Remember Betty Munroe? You're best friend?"

"Why must I?" she grumbled.

Brad was taken aback by this question. Nobody questioned rules like that. "Because. That's how good people behave. You aren't supposed to act like this. You're supposed to blush when you hear words like those in the song you were singing. Janet, this isn't right!"

"But why? Frankie didn't seem to think it was wrong..."

At the mention of that monster, Brad was furious. "Please don't mention him. That... deviant is the worst possible example for you. We both need to forget that night."

Though she still had that funny looked on her face she seemed somewhat defeated. She flopped down on the bed.

"Good night, _darling_ ," she said softly.

"Goodnight."

He then left the room and closed the door. After that he went back to his own room. Though he was tired he didn't yet dress for bed. Instead he walked into the bathroom and stared at the mirror for a while. He looked awful. For one thing, he desperately needed to shave. There was also still smudges of makeup and dirt on his face. The conservative clothes he wore looked odd in contrast to this wild face that stated back at him.

So he showered and scrubbed his face. At least he looked more normal by then. Though he was very tired. So he dressed for bed and went to his own bedroom. After finding his spare set of glasses - which he knew he'd need for the next day - he went to sleep.

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	3. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_. **

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**A/N: Thank you, WonderfulMidnight, for reviewing. You're wonderful! [** _please pardon the pathetic pun_ **] I'm so very glad you liked the Ophelia thing. And you're right about Brad being not so happy in this story. Despite trying so very hard, things will not go his way... sort of like in the movie. At least I'll probably give him a nice ending.**

 **And, as you lovely readers might've noticed, all the doctors are named for classic _Doctor Who_ actors. The nurses and other OCs are named after companions. This story's psychoanalyst is name for the most famous of all (Tom Baker, who played the 4th Doctor aka 'Scarf Doctor'). That's mostly because he's very eccentric and features more than other doctors. **

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The next day Brad awoke to the sound of Janet singing that song of hers. After a moment, he realized that she was in his bed. At least she was still wearing that gown.

"Janet! What are you doing?" he asked.

"Hmm? Nothing, really. Just coming to say hello."

He grabbed his spare set of glasses and put them on. Glaring at her through them, he replied: "Appearing in my bed early in the morning and singing isn't how you say 'hello'. I'm your fiancé, not husband, so you shouldn't be in my room at all. It isn't decent!"

" _Why_ isn't it decent? _Who_ makes these rules?"

To his annoyance, Brad didn't have an answer to that. So he just showed her out of his room and slammed the door.

As he got dressed he began to contemplate breaking up with her. Though such a thing meant taking the ring back and explaining to everyone why. Only Dr. Scott knew about That Night, so only he knew the origin of Janet's new behavior. Brad hoped that the psychoanalyst would be able to help fix Janet.

After he'd gotten dressed he

"You're much sorter than me and my clothes wouldn't ever fit you. Even if it did fit, men wear suits. Woman most certainly don't! I'll admit that women sometimes wear trousers of _some_ kind, but not one of my suits."

"Marlene Dietrich wore a man's suit," Janet pointed out.

Brad sighed wearily. "Marlene Dietrich is as bad a role model as Frank. I'll call Ralph and ask him to bring one of Betty's dresses for you."

" _Fine_."

So that's what he did. Immediately afterwards he called his office and said he'd be using one of his seldom-used sickdays. His boss had no objection to this, but had apparently heard about Brad being at the local the previous day (a Sunday, upon which Brad wasn't supposed to work anyway).

"It was nothing. Just a car accident that my girlfriend and I got in. We're both physically fine, though she's acting a bit funny…" Brad explained.

"I saw in the newspaper that you're engaged to Janet Weiss now," his boss replied conversationally.

"Yes, I proposed the day Ralph Hapschatt married Betty Munroe. Miss Weiss accepted right away. The, er, accident happened on our way to tell a good friend the news."

"I'm assuming this has something to do with that, hmm? You're a good worker, Majors, and you rarely use up sickdays. So I won't hold this against you."

"Thank you, sir."

Then, he hung up the phone. It was then he heard a knock at the front door. He rushed to it, hoping to greet whoever was there before Janet could.

It was Ralph.

"Ah, you've got the dress?" Brad asked.

Ralph nodded, handing his friend the bag. "Will you explain what's going on?"

"Not right now. Did you see the newspaper announcement?"

"About your engagement to Janet Weiss? I did – and congratulate you. It proves that I was right when I said that it'll be your turn next!"

Both men laughed, then Ralph left.

Brad went back into the house, handed Janet the clothes, and wondered _why_. Why did the world have to go wrong all of a sudden? Why did the car have to get a flat tire? Why couldn't they have ended up somewhere where the people were actually sane? How could one night do so much damage to _everything_?

At least the most damaged was Janet. Somehow she'd gone from sweet and innocent to anarchic and insane. This constant questioning of every social convention or rule wasn't good. Brad was very glad he hadn't ended up like that.

Being the dominant half of a relationship like Brad & Janet's was a challenge, because it meant that you had to look after the other half. Though Brad took pride in this duty. Now he was beginning to question whether or not it was worth it. Janet had morphed into something less controllable. This new form of Janet needed a patient parent as much a loving husband. Marrying her would make being such a caretaker a life sentence. But Brad planned to still go through with it. Already he'd begun to suspect that she'd gotten pregnant that awful night. It was all too easy, though he despised thinking about it. If she was pregnant neither of the potential fathers could marry her, since they'd already died. So Brad knew he'd have to marry her if this theory was true. It was charity in the least, making sure a child wasn't born out of wedlock. And, truthfully, he did love Janet. Even though now she wasn't really even Janet anymore!

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Dr. Thomas S. Baker was the name of the psychoanalyst they found for Janet.

He was tall, thin, and clean-shaven. Framing his handsome face was a messy mane of brownish-red hair. The wiry glasses he wore made his piercing blue eyes stand out quite vividly. Brad couldn't help this man highly attractive, to his discomfort.

When they entered his office he was lounging on an armchair in a way that resembled the way Frank lounged on that throne of his in the castle ballroom. Understandably, this bothered Brad.

"My name is Brad Majors. This here is my fiancée – and your new patient – Janet Weiss," Brad said with feigned nonchalance, as they sat down on the couch.

"Hello. I'm Dr. Baker, though you can call me 'Tom'. It will make you more comfortable to call me that," the doctor replied cheerfully.

Janet smiled strangely. "Good to meet you, Tom."

In response, Dr. Baker grinned a wild grin. It wasn't as cat-like as. No, more like an expression seen on the hatter's face. Brad found it rather unnerving, to say the very least.

After a moment, Brad cleared his throat. "What's this going to be like? Will you just start asking Janet to tell you about her mother?"

All Brad's knowledge of came from things he'd seen on television. Most of this happened to be satirizing the study. He knew that it was all in jest, so his tone was equally mocking.

"Of course not. I'll be asking her about a variety of things. The doctor didn't give me much to work with. Only a description of how she acted when in there care. What's most important is figuring out the trigger of Miss Weiss's new behavior. The 'why'."

At this Brad became rather uncomfortable. Surely Janet would need to mention all that happened at the castle. Apparently Dr. Baker noticed this sudden look of fear on Brad's face.

"Now… I'd better remind you that there's a law that states I can't reveal our conversations to anyone. So don't shy away from telling the truth, Miss Weiss and Mr. Majors."

"A phone." Janet murmured in that funny new voice of hers, that femme fatale impression that was far from her usual childlike way of speaking. "A _phone_."

"What do you mean?" Dr. Baker asked.

"We wouldn't be in this trouble if we'd found a phone. All this caused by lack of a small object. It is funny, I think."

Then, she made a strange, squeaky noise that Brad eventually concluded was an attempt at laughter. It was rather creepy.

"A phone?"

"Yes, Tom-darling. A phone! The car broke down and we went to a castle. There was a man there, wearing makeup and lingerie. I don't remember much except that I slept with the man and his living sex toy Rocky Horror… separately, mind you. I'd never done such a thing and I really liked it."

Before, Brad realized, he hadn't heard her side of the story. Now he wished he hadn't. She'd reminded him of Frank – which made him think of how much he'd enjoyed what had been done to _him_.

Dr. Baker wrote something down on a clipboard he'd produced, then asked a question: "What do you mean by 'really liked it'?"

To Brad's embarrassment, Janet giggled and answered: "I mean that it was wonderfully pleasureful and I enjoyed it so very much. Now I understand the reason many things exist, such as pornography or sex toys. Before, I'd only kissed – chaste kisses, alas! – or flirted verbally. Never did I get so physically close to anybody. I'm sure you understand, Tom, being such a learned man. Such a psychoanalyst, like that darling of Sigmund Freud."

The random mention of Sigmund Freud perplexed Brad and amused Dr. Baker. It made no sense to either of them.

By then Brad was wondering if that not-so-sweet transvestite had broken – metaphorical, not that – Janet by magically getting rid of her mental filter. How terrible that would be! It certainly seemed so. The innocent girl Brad had asked to marry wouldn't even be able to talk about sex, let alone say all those things aloud. If she was reporting what Frank had done in a grim manner akin to Lucretia's report of her horrid rape by Sextus Tarquinius it would've seemed less wrong. Not that being raped by a Roman king was a positive thing (despite it bringing about the Republic in Lucretia's case)…

There wasn't any tragic lamenting or honor-suicide. Just girlish giggling and embracement of sexuality. And the new ability to look naked wearing Betty's conservative dress…

After a moment, Mr. Baker cleared his throat. "I think Miss Weiss needs time to adjust to this new and sudden 'discovery' of hers. Most kids slowly gain an understanding of sexuality as teenagers. Since she didn't until age 24 it'd be best for us to take things slow. We – though not her parents – should aim to help her with this. Mr. Majors? Do you think you can do that?"

"What do you mean?"

"Help her understand sexuality via conversations, nothing more," Mr. Baker explained brightly.

"If that's your professional idea of how to help her… then yes," Brad said, reluctantly.

"Great! I'll have my secretary Elisa set up an appointment for next week. Same time, same day if that's alright…?"

"Yes," Brad replied.

Then, the couple and the doctor stood up. The latter cheerfully led the former to the door of his office. He nodded to Janet and firmly shook the hand of Brad. This was respectable enough.

For a mere second Dr. Baker stared intently at the crotch of Brad's trousers. Judging by the look in the psychoanalyst's eyes this was _not_ by mistake. Horrified at the implications, Brad blushed. This seemed to amuse Mr. Baker.

Mildly disturbed, Brad stormed out of the office – dragging Janet along beside him.

Brad Majors and his fiancée, Janet Weiss, went back to his house. In order to pick up her clothes and such they stopped at _her_ house. It seemed that she'd be moving in for a few weeks in the very least. Once in a while such 'indecent' relationships were actually _needed_ , Brad had to – but hated to – admit.

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 **A/N: Poor ol' Brad Majors needs a psychoanalyst more than his fiancée, Janet Weiss...**

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	4. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_**

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 **A/N: Yay! So many reviews! [Thank you, Guest and Wonderful Midnight the Wonderful.] I had fun writing the scene with the psychoanalyst - there'll be more of him later. This story is something I though nobody would reading, which is somewhat funny. Now I keep worrying that it will become hated if I'm not careful...**

 **Also, sorry for Janet's cursing. It just seemed to fit.**

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When they got back to Brad's house, neither really knew what to do. To him it seemed best to start planning what they'd do next. Planning was an important part of being a responsible adult. That's what he was, despite the recent insanity. Brad Majors was a responsible young man who would soon enough be happily married to an attractive young blonde – who was far cleverer than such a description implies – named Janet Weiss. That was what was supposed to happen. Indeed, that was what _would_ happen… if things went his way.

"We need to get married soon. You're parents will be happy, my parents will be happy, and I'll have an easier time looking after you. Not to mention that it's all to possible that you're carrying some sort of half-alien child and I'm a decent enough person to not want you ending up an unwed mother. Especially the mother of some kind of space-mutant that you'll need help caring for. And women like planning weddings… don't they?"

"I don't like planning weddings – at least right now. Anyway, how do you know I even want to be married?" was Janet's unhappy reply.

Brad sighed. "I _don't_ know if you want to be married. I just assumed so, since you cheerfully accepting my proposal and you're still wearing the ring."

There was that look again. The fiery look of rebellion in Janet's usually-innocent brown eyes. Brad didn't like it – as usual.

" _Well_ , my _darling_ , I hadn't experienced certain things when I put on that ring. To say it like a very adventurous sailor might… I hadn't been fucked by both a prissy drag queen _and_ a manly blond Steve Reeves look-a-like yet. The latter was better in some ways, though the former still felt pretty good. Now I plan to find other men who look vaguely like Steve Reeves so I can pretend I'm sleeping with _Hercules_ … as in the character played by Reeves in those Italian-made movies of the same name. Ha! You, my friend, are not that sort of guy. Nor will you ever be, even with the help of Charles Atlas!"

At such a bold (not to mention slightly disturbing) statement, Brad winced. He did not like this new form of Janet. Nor did he like to visualize the many shocking activities Janet might engage in with these men she apparently now fantasized about. The mention of Frank and his creation also bothered poor Brad.

She continued: "I know want to be something besides a housewife. That night at the castle gave me a taste of a wild life. Before I'm tied down and condemned to have children and only sleep with one person I want some fun. Sex, drugs, and rock n' roll; as the saying goes!"

To put it lightly, Brad was not pleased. This sweet young lady whose surname meant 'white' – as in the color worn by innocent girls and virgin brides – was behaving in a way he didn't see as ladylike. Again, he mentally questioned his plan to marry this quickly-transforming entity. He feared she'd soon be one of those crazed liberal feminists that you heard terrible stories about in the paper.

While Brad was lost in thought Janet had begun singing her little song again. Soon enough he noticed. Though he didn't actually say anything. No, just stared at her thoughtfully.

It made him think of that production of _Hamlet_. When Ophelia went mad she spent all her time handing people flowers and singing suggestive folk songs. Was Janet trying to behave like the character? Brad half thought so. But there was no way she had meant to remind him of that scene

"Brad, darling? What's wrong?" she asked, startling him.

For a moment, she almost sounded like her old self. This made him a bit sad.

"Oh, nothing's wrong. I was just thinking," he reassured her.

She smiled slightly. "About what?"

"Nothing."

Neither spoke for a moment. After a while, Brad realized something:

"It's lunchtime and we haven't even eaten breakfast!"

So, he cooked something for the both of them. He'd long ago come to the conclusion that men do not cook. Cooking was for housewives. That meant he never bothered learning to make anything besides some sort of hardly edible sandwich. Since Janet was a guest – as opposed to a permanent resident – Brad decided it was polite to make lunch.

At least she didn't complain about the slightly stale bread or the somehow soggy lettuce. Though Brad himself hardly noticed it. Both of them were too lost in thought to pay attention to the food.

Brad kept thinking of how one strange night had changed everything. Yes, he still had the same job and friends and house. But now he saw some things differently. He still couldn't look his old teacher Dr. Everett Scott in the eye. And his fiancée Janet Weiss was broken – meaning both the fact that her mind had sort of snapped and, well, the result of what she'd gleefully done with that alien.

Hopefully Dr. Baker would be able to help Janet. That would be good, yes.

What Brad didn't realize was that maybe he too needed help. There were things he worried about, confusing memories of that night at the Frankenstein Place. He desperately wanted to forget all of it. Especially that crossdressing alien who was practically the personification of sexual liberation, or perhaps the physical manifestation of somebody's id. Though he was too busy worrying about poor Janet – who'd begun singing her song again, having finished eating her lunch – to pay attention to his own troubles.

"Janet?" he said, a bit nervously.

"Yes, Brad?" she replied.

"What will we do tomorrow? I need to go to work yet I don't think leaving you to your own devices is a good idea."

The very thought of all the mad things Janet might do if she had the chance terrified Brad. He could almost see her wandering around town in lingerie searching for someone who looked like Steve Reeves – or, just as likely, someone who looked Rocky Horror. This was not a pleasant thing to visualize. Especially since those sorts of people weren't found in Denton. No, she'd have to go somewhere strange and diverse like the city to find a guy who looked like _that_. So that meant she might travel all the way to New York in her underclothes.

Brad shuddered in horror.

At least Janet was oblivious to what he was thinking. She might indeed do such a thing if given the idea. That would be bad, to say the least.

Finally, Brad thought of an idea. "Why don't I send you to Scotty for the day?"

"Doesn't he have a job somewhere?"

"Now he works from home. He sends notes of some kind – he hasn't told anyone what – to an office in DC. I though you knew that."

"I must've forgotten," she replied with a shrug.

And so it was decided.

Only a few minutes later, Janet was busy unpacking her clothes while Brad was reading a book in the living room. It was _Frankenstein_ , by Mary Shelley.

To his slight amusement, the story of the creature Victor created was oddly familiar in some small ways. This creation was meant to be physically attractive and stronger/larger than normal humans. Though it somehow ended up having sallow skin and strange eyes, so it wasn't what its creator wanted at all. That was where the stories Frank N. Furter and Frankenstein differed. Rocky Horror did turn out as nice looking as intended. Not that Brad cared _, of course_. He wasn't any good at judging the looks of fellow men, for he had no interest in them. Or so he told himself.

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	5. Chapter 5

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_**

 **A/N: Again... thanks for reviewing, WonderfulMidnight and FireandBloodandKittens. I'm glad you liked this. This chapter will be the first half of all the crazy things Janet does while being 'babysat' by Dr. Scott. Hopefully it lives up to WonderfulMidnight's expectations. Though I don't think it's as good a story without Brad (he'll be back in the next chapter).**

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Now may be the time to explain Brad's perfectly respectable job.

He worked for an accounting company called Dent & Prefect. This business was owned by, as one might've guessed, two men called Mr. Dent and Mr. Prefect. The latter was much more sociable – he'd been the one who picked up the phone when Brad called – and better liked by most people.

Mr. Prefect had allegedly been an actor long ago though retired from the stage before he met Mr. Dent. Since he performed Shakespeare – as opposed to musical comedy – this wasn't seen as unmanly by anyone. It just meant he had a loud speaking voice and a boisterous manner. He was the one who got to know all the employees, laughed at their worst jokes, invited their wives to the Christmas party, and was not allowed near alcohol. Mr. Dent was particularly keen on enforcing on that last one.

Mr. Dent, on the other hand, was so amazingly boring that it made some people wondered how he managed it. All he wanted from life was a cup of tea – he'd been born in England. The most adventurous thing that had ever happened him was the occasional trip to a nearby country club and its golf courses.

Brad had come to believe they canceled each other out. While Dent lacked the ability to be interesting, Prefect made up for it with his colorful personality. This is why it was hard to picture them separately. Not long after he begun working for them Brad decided that they must each have a wife like the other. So Mr. Dent had a wife that was a female version of Mr. Prefect and vice versa. Despite many office Christmas parties, this theory had yet to be proven or disproven.

Only a few years before the night at the castle, Brad had passed all the necessary exams and was officially a Certified Public Accountant. That's when he started working for Dennis & Prefect. This did not make him boring in his own mind. No, it was a fine way to earn a living. After just a few years he was quite well off and had enough saved up to support a wife. Of course, he hadn't counted on his future wife being as anarchic as Janet.

On that Tuesday after that wild weekend, he drove Janet to Dr. Scott's house on the way to work. He dropped her off as quickly as possible and drove to his job.

What Brad did at work would not make for a good story. It was far too dull. So, this narrative shall focus on just Janet for a while…

After being left on the sidewalk outside her old friend's house, Janet promptly skipped up to the doorway to knock on the door. It took a moment for Dr. Scott – still adjusting to the use of his legs – to get to the door and unlock it. When he did, he wasn't surprised to see her.

"Janet! Brad said you vould be here."

She smiled oddly. "He wants to keep me out of _his_ house. He thinks I'll do something terrible. And he doesn't trust me to be alone. If I were him I'd trust me as alone, but not with other people. I've upset him."

"Are you feeling better zan you vere?" Dr. Scott asked.

"Well, I'm not drugged like I was when you last saw me! That's surely an improvement. Though I've been arguing with Brad. He doesn't trust me! That's not fair, you know. I didn't do anything wrong. He's being awfully squeamish about everything."

At this point Dr. Scott decided it was best to talk to Janet as if she were a particularly bratty child. Something about her new behavior was oddly childlike, he thought.

Soon enough he led her into the living room. The exact same living room she'd been carried to a few days previously.

"Sit down, Janet," he said, in a tone that he thought of as kind.

This soon led to many questions from Janet: "What are we going to do today? Will I be trapped in this house? Won't I get bored?"

"Vhy don't you read a book?" Dr. Scott suggested.

Though the idea didn't seem to please Janet, Dr. Scott eventually persuaded her to read _Jane Eyre_. Then he left her there and went to his study. He needed to keep writing about his recent encounter with the aliens. That would please the people at the Bureau of UFO Investigation in Washington DC. They didn't like foreigners, so even a respected scientist had to work hard for them if he wanted to be trusted. Anyway, the previous weekend's encounter was very good proof of a few of his theories. Not to mention that this meant a few failed university projects weren't actually impossible.

As he began to type away on his study's typewriter, Janet was getting tired of _Jane Eyre_. It's a real shame she didn't get very far. A major theme is Jane Eyre trying to make her way in a man's world and surely Janet Weiss could've related to at least _some_ of it. Though the book bored her.

Thankfully, she soon heard a knock at the door. Dr. Scott was too busy to hear it so Janet went to see who was there.

It was a young, attractive man. Janet was pleased to see that he wasn't old or ugly. No, this man was clearly about her age and seemed to have a physical built similar to Brad's. Though he was at least somewhat.

" _Who_ are you?" she asked sweetly.

"Um, I'm Walter Chekov. This is the residence of Dr. Everett Scott, isn't it?"

"Yes."

The young man chuckled awkwardly. "Right. Who are you? His daughter…?"  
Janet laughed. "No, a friend of his."

Somehow the conversation quickly went from such simple introductions to the both of them getting undressed in Dr. Scott's guest bedroom. Janet's song was probably partially to blame...

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Despite being a scholar of science, Dr. Scott also had some knowledge of the more memorable times in history. That meant the more colorful eras – such as Rome's decadent Julio-Claudian dynasty or intoxicated warriors in Viking halls - that one remembers from the often dull required history classes. This cheerful, sluttish young woman reminded him of Empress Messalina. That was the third – or perhaps 4th, Dr. Scott wasn't sure – wife of the Roman Emperor Claudius. She was very keen on sex and had slept with practically half of Roman's upper class before her husband found out and had her executed. Once that infamous woman had decided to compete with a well-known prostitute and see who could wear out more men. Of course, the Empress Messalina won.

When Dr. Scott found the two people in his guest room feared that Janet was turning into such a fiend. That was a bit of an overreaction, though.

"Vhat's going on here?" he asked.

"Don't you know?" Janet asked, giggling. "This nice young man and I were just having some fun."

That's when Dr. Scott recognized the man. It was that young intern from the Bureau of UFO Investigation that was supposed to be showing up that day. He'd forgotten all about this!

"Boz of you get dressed, _now,_ " Dr. Scott said darkly.

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	6. Chapter 6

**A/N: thanks for reviewing, WonderfulMidnight. I suppose I just worry about people suddenly not reviewing because it becomes to silly. It's good to know you don't have too many expectations. As you might like, Janet becomes more and more crazy as this story goes on. I've often thought she's no longer a '50s Girl from the moment Frank seduces her. Soon enough - in this tale - she might become a modern version of the infamous Roman empress Messalina that Dr. Scott referenced in the previous chapter. That means she'll behave very sluttishly and sleep with any guy (and maybe any girl at some point) she can get her hands on. Just as everyone in Rome _except_ for Emperor Claudius knew about the empress's behavior for a long time, poor Brad will find out only at the last moment possible. **

**Maybe. I've got a variety of ideas for this story's overall plot.**

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Though it took quite a while, both Janet and Walter were soon enough dressed and standing awkwardly in the living room. Glaring at them was Dr. Scott. Since he was easily as tall as Brad when standing this was intimidated the two younger people in the room. It was good being out of that wheelchair, even if he did have to lean against a walking stick, because it meant he could look down at people through his wiry-framed clear blue eyes. A tall older man with a thick German accent is a frightening thing indeed – especially to the excitable teenagers he used to teach. One always feels as if they're being scolded or ordered around when speaking to such a person. We've probably got Hollywood to blame for this stereotype. Not that it wasn't a useful stereotype, at least for some people.

"I _knov_ vhat ze two of you vere up to and vhy. I vas once a young man vith a great interest in ze chorus girls at zis one cabaret – vhen I lived in Berlin, many years ago. Despite zat I don't approve of vhat nearly happened. Valter Chekov, you vere supposed to be meeting your new employer today. Zat is I. Maybe I would've been less angry if you'd bothered introducing yourself before attempting to bed zis floozy. And zat room you vere in vas _my_ guest bedroom in _my_ house. Not zat I blame only young _Herr_ Chekov. I zink – I _knov_ – zat Janet played a role in zis. She's been very interested in sexual zings ever since, er… anyvay. I knov it is not my place to punish tvo adults – neither of vhich are related to me or each other, zank heavens – for doing something adults often do. Zough I vill say I don't want such a thing to happen again. If ze tvo of you ever vant to you may – if you promise not to involve me at all. Zat means, it can't inconvenience me. If it'll keep you out of my vay when I'm working zen I'm all for it!"

To message of that speech – once you'd filtered out the moral nonsense – was: "you can do whatever you want if you keep out of my way."

This bizarre speech really did amuse Janet. Walter, on the other hand, was embarrassed by it. To be told such a thing the day he met his new employer! He did all he could not to blush. That was a challenge, for he was rather fair skinned. Despite the Russian-sounding name he looked very Irish.

"Why don't we get back to what we were doing," Janet said cheerfully.

Nobody had the energy or to think of a reason for why not. Dr. Scott still needed to finish a few things. And, now that he thought about it, Walter was supposed to sleep in the guest room anyway…

Once Janet had had her fun, she slept – literally, not with somebody – for a few hours. Then she got up, smoked a cigarette (she'd found a pack underneath the bed), and read more of _Jane Eyre_. Again, the book bored her and she stopped reading.

The odd quiet of the house bothered her. The only sound was that of Dr. Scott and Walter talking in the far-away study.

She began singing that song of hers again. If only somebody could here and give her what she wanted. Though there wasn't anyone nearby to touch her who wasn't busy. So Janet did it herself. Depraved, isn't she?

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At about five Brad left work. On his way home he stopped by Dr. Scott's house to retrieve his fiancée Janet Weiss.

By then Janet had actually gotten cleaned up... and smoked another cigarette. The latter's something she hadn't done before – making her oddly unique. Like sex, smoking cheered her up _and_ briefly entertained her. Not that she needed much cheering up. Ever since the night at the castle she'd been to busy fantasizing about a variety of deviant activities. This frightened her fiancé and left her in this permanent state of 'creative lust'. That's the proper term, she thought. It meant when a person thought only of sex and related concepts in a creative way – very kinkily. It's not healthy, but it is fun. 'Not healthy, but fun' described nearly everything Janet wanted. That was also almost precisely everything Brad wanted to avoid.

The next few days were spent in a similar manner as Tuesday. They got up. Brad dropped Janet off at Dr. Scott's. Janet bedded Walter while Brad did his respectable accounting. Brad left work and picked Janet up on the way home. On Thursday a friend of Dr. Scott's showed up for lunch. That was a 30-something male teacher (in less good shape than Walter, though still attractive enough to be worth it) who'd replaced Dr. Scott as Earth/Space Sciences teacher Denton High. So that day Janet got both Walter and this new friend. Nothing else really was much different.

When Walter was busy or tired Janet spent time fixing up a room in the basement for her 'fun'. This ensured that his room's bed wouldn't get 'dirty'. She _also_ hoped to one-day make the room look like Frank's castle. Though by the end of the week it wasn't more than a small space with a bed made of some sheets and blankets Dr. Scott wanted to throw out, with only one lamp. It was a dimly lit place that reminded her of part of a brothel in a western. Somewhere Mae West's characters lived. This was not bad in her crazed mind.

Never did Brad learn of what exactly Janet did during the day. Dr. Scott knew it would only make things worse than they already were if Brad knew, so he never said a word. It kept her occupied for some time and kept that annoying intern – or whatever young Mr. Walter Chekov was supposed to be – out of Dr. Scott's way. Walter was too bewildered by the whole thing to even think of asking if Janet had any sort of boyfriend. Not that he had any reason to suspect that. Who would?

So Brad remained oblivious. This suited everyone involved well enough for the time being.

Soon enough it was time to visit Dr. Thomas Baker again.

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	7. Chapter 7

**Disclaimer: I don't own _The Rocky Horror Picture Show_**

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 **A/N: Thanks for the review, WonderfulMidnight (I feel like I'm being ungrateful if I don't say it). Starting in this chapter, Brad will 'loosen up' a bit... though never as much as good ol' Janet.**

 **I dreaded writing this chapter and kept avoiding it. To write the scenes with Dr. Baker in them I knew I'd need to reread some of the lunacy Freud wrote (I'm pretty sure he was THE mainstream source for this sort of thing even as late as the '70s). I can be as squeamish as Brad when it comes to that kind of thing. The dream stuff can be weirdly comical, but everything about homosexuality being a disease is pretty sick sounding to 'our sort' of person in the 21st Century. Part of this story is about Dr. Baker (and Brad) learning that those nasty ideas of Dr. Freud's are false, though.**

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This time, a pretty young woman with short brown hair and a cheerful expression greeted them when they entered the office. It was Dr. Baker's secretary, Miss Elisa Sladen.

"The doctor is ready for you now," she told them.

So they both entered the office. As before, the doctor lounged on a chair across from an empty couch. He currently smoked a cigar and seemed to be writing a letter to somebody called Mr. WH. When he noticed Brad Majors and his fiancée Janet Weiss, he put the letter aside.

"Hello, again. How are you?"

Brad realized that this was probably a trick question so he didn't answer. Though Janet did.

"Perfectly well, Tom."

That answer didn't satisfy him. "Hmm. What does that mean? Can you explain why you're perfectly well?" the doctor asked.

Janet giggled. "Well, life's been going well for me."

"Hmm. Then why are you here? Somebody thought something was wrong and sent you to me, so…"

"They think I'm acting oddly and want to know why. Though that's only because I've gotten rid of my irrational fear of sex. There's nothing wrong with it – Frank showed me that – and all this nervousness people have is silly. I think they belong here instead of me. There's nothing wrong with how I've been acting."

"How've you been acting?"

"Well, I've spent much time thinking about

"Janet, Janet, Janet. You're having a phase of hypersexuality, aren't you?" Dr. Baker asked, smiling that unnerving smile again.

"What does that mean?" Brad said.

"It means she's having trouble focusing on subjects that don't involve sex. According to Dr. Freud. At least she's also taking it better than most do," the doctor explained.

Then, Brad left the room. He didn't need to hear any of this! Though he didn't actually leave the place, so he still heard the occasional laughing or shouting. It made him rather nervous. As did the way that secretary was staring at him. None of it was decent!

After what felt like hours a smiling Janet and an amused Dr. Baker exited the office. As if trained to, Elisa the secretary quickly called Janet over to her desk. Then she began. This gave Brad the opportunity to talk to Dr. Baker.

"What did you figure out about Janet's?"

"I think she's just suffering from a somewhat overactive sex drive – something we don't like to see, though a better state than sexual repression. That means when one has a determined resistance to and subconscious avoidance of the concept of sexuality being a positive thing. You seem familiar with that. And at least she's not what Dr. Freud might refer to as in 'invert', a worse thing that can be caused by similar trauma. The exact reverse of what's considered normal. This person called 'Frank' – Janet seems very focused on him, and I think he's the cause of her new behavior – is apparently something of an invert. He's the kind that wears clothes of a female and attempts to appear feminine – that's called a 'transvestite' – yet also is attracted to both male and female. That sort of person would be hard to cure. At least that man is dead, rather than a patient of mine."

It seemed that Dr. Baker could be very talkative. This sort of bothered Brad.

"Do you ever worry that you're some sort of 'invert'?" Brad asked, unable to stop himself.

The psychoanalyst laughed. "No, of course not! I haven't ever gone through some kind of trauma as a child, and I've known more attractive young ladies than you probably have. Not that your supposed lack of ex-girlfriends is a fault. I am, after all, 32. That's older than you. I might be bisexual – there's a theory everyone is, you know."

"No… I didn't know."

Neither Brad Majors nor Dr. Thomas Baker spoke for a while – though Janet and Elisa kept chatting amiably. The two mean stood there in silence for a while. Then, Dr. Baker thought of an idea.

"Would you like to meet for lunch later today? Then perhaps I can teach you more about all this."

Brad nodded, smiling without meaning to. "Sure."

And so, Janet was then driven to Dr. Scott's house. Brad went to work just after dropping her off. Janet got her first fuck of the day from a very willing Walter Chekov by lunchtime. Brad knew nothing about that, fortunately enough.

He was very excited – to excited, though he was somewhat in denial why – when it was his lunch break. Time to go meet Dr. Baker.

"Do you think he's going on a date with Janet?" asked Mr. Dent, as he saw Brad happily leave the office building.

"He's been dating _that_ girl for too long to be that excited. I'd bet he's having an affair with somebody," replied Mr. Prefect, chuckling. He sure loved a good scandal – _and_ knew how to indentify one.

Mr. Dent laughed. "Don't be silly, dear. I highly doubt a good kid like young Mr. Majors would have an affair."

" _I_ think he's like us, my darling!"

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As Brad parked the car near Dr. Baker's office, he suddenly realized how cheerful he was now! Perhaps he was just very grateful to this man was helping Janet, he decided. Why else would he feel so strangely happy as he walked towards the door? Why else would he smile the way he was?

He managed to diminish the smile slightly by the time Elisa opened the door.

"The doctor is almost done. His current patient will be out of here in about five minutes," the secretary said sweetly.

At this, Brad nodded. Five minutes wasn't too long. He couldn't wait to hear more about what was wrong with Janet and how they'd fix it (or so he told himself). The real reason for his eagerness to see Dr. Baker was probably something more like he was starting to like the doctor the way no proper man should. This he wouldn't be able to admit to himself. So he stayed in cheerful denial as he stood outside the outer office. Thanks to all the fuss about Janet and her Frank-induced hypersexuality had made him forget about what that mad scientist had done to Brad. The overwhelming sensation of Frank's mouth on Brad's-

The sudden sound of the office's door creaking open stopped that repressed thought mid-sentence. This was lucky, for Brad had begun to physically 'react' to that memory. Oh the horror.

"Ah, you're here!" said Dr. Baker. "I've already picked out a place for us to eat."

"Good."

For _some_ reason, Brad didn't trust himself to say much more to Dr. Baker's blue eyes and wild red-brown hair and high cheekbones…

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 **A/N: Oh _dear_. Brad's starting to fall in love... as I planned all along!**

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